Pensive
by Vivian Kain
Summary: After the end of the term, Harry sneaks back into Snape’s office in the hopes of using Snape’s Pensieve in order to see Sirius one more time. However, what he finds there could change his life forever, and Sirius just might live after all. OotP spoi
1. A Leap of Faith

A/N: MAJOR Order of the Phoenix spoilers. I have decided that the best way to deal with my grief would be to write something rather commemorative of Sirius, but at the same time explore some of the new things we learned in Order of the Phoenix. And who knows…Sirius just might live after all.  
  
Disclaimer: Despite what she did to Sirius (sob sob) I am forced to admit that the Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling and not to me, even if she doesn't deserve them! (Just kidding, Ms. Rowling…I'm just a smidge upset about Sirius's death, I'll be over it in a few years, I promise…)   
  
Harry glared down at the parchment in his hand, checking and rechecking the tiny dots on the Marauders' Map carefully. All of the authority figures appeared to be sleeping or otherwise occupied at the opposite end of the castle. Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, were both moving very fast down a corridor on the third floor and appeared to be chasing Peeves, who was bouncing off the walls gleefully. Even though Umbridge was finally gone, Peeves hadn't seemed to want to give up his antics, which were increasingly annoying Filch to the point of insanity. Professor McGonagall was in her quarters and Dumbledore, of course, was in his office. Harry, however, assumed that if Dumbledore had known what Harry was about to do he wouldn't have stopped him anyway. It was Snape that Harry really had to worry about.  
  
"Can they send you to Azkaban for breaking and entering into someone's memory?" He wondered childishly. He banished the thought quickly, thinking of the time in fourth year when he'd broken into Dumbledore's memories. Dumbledore certainly would have warned him if the offense could have resulted in imprisonment, and he was equally positive that, if at all possible, Snape would have pressed charges when he'd found Harry in his pensieve during their Occlumency lessons.  
  
Which was precisely why Harry was in the dungeon in the first place. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak more tightly around him as he located Snape on the map. Surprisingly, Snape appeared to be in the Astronomy Tower at the moment, but Harry had little time to wonder what could have lured him there. He had more important matters to tend to.  
  
Harry looked down nervously at the knife in his hand. It was Sirius's knife, badly repaired after its run-in with the door in the Department of Mysteries. After his and Hermione's charms had failed to repair the melted weapon, Harry had taken his gift to Professor Flitwick out of sheer desperation. While the Professor had managed to at least make the knife resemble its former shape, Harry was still not completely confident that it would work the way it was supposed to. He wished he could have asked the young Barty Crouch how he had managed to break into Snape's office, but Barty Crouch probably wouldn't have been very cooperative, due to the fact that he was currently lacking a soul.  
  
Harry could feel his heart drumming rhythmically against his ribs, and he swallowed hard. He wasn't nervous about getting caught, or seeing what he came to see, but rather he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to get into Snape's office at all. His disappointment if he was unable to access Snape's pensieve again would be more than he could stand, especially now. He needed to see Sirius again, and if he couldn't make that happen he feared he'd go mad.  
  
Harry decided to try the easy way first, in the hopes that he wouldn't have to resort to using his now-mangled present from Sirius. He reached the door to Snape's office and tapped it lightly, whispering "Alohomora" as he did. As Harry had feared, nothing happened. Taking a deep breath, he tried again to perish the thought that he might not be able to accomplish his task.  
  
There was no question about it. He HAD to get into Snape's pensieve. After spending two weeks brooding the loss of his godfather, Harry had realized that photographs were no longer enough. He missed Sirius in a way that made his stomach ache dully, all the time. Sirius was never far from his mind, and he imagined that this would have been what it would feel like to lose his parents if he had been old enough to remember it. He knew he couldn't bring Sirius back, but hoped that to see him moving, walking, laughing, would somehow make the constant pain ebb away, just a bit. Following a sixteen-year old Sirius around Snape's pensieve, Harry had decided, was better than nothing.   
  
"Come on, Sirius," Harry whispered, drawing out the knife. Carefully, he inserted the blade into the doorjamb and slid it upward. With a soft click, the door swung open a few inches. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry pushed it all the way open and stepped inside.  
  
Upon first glance, Snape's pensieve was nowhere to be seen, and it was then that Harry realized he had more than a locked door to contend with. What if he couldn't find Snape's pensieve? And, if he did find it, what if Snape had put all the memories back into his head after the end of the Occlumency lessons for fear of Harry doing exactly what he was doing? Harry shook his head. He couldn't think about that now. He just had to try and find the pensieve.  
  
It only took a few moments for Harry to retrieve Snape's pensieve, much to his delight. Harry inserted Sirius's knife into the cabinet that Hermione had knicked polyjuice ingredients from so long ago, and he found the pensieve on the very bottom shelf, its swirling contents shimmering darkly.  
  
With a massive effort, Harry hoisted the pensieve onto Snape's desk, trying to be as quiet as possible. He'd never actually handled a pensieve before, and they were quite heavy. The liquid inside sloshed around a bit, and Harry watched in horror as two small droplets of Snape's memory landed on the floor and evaporated. Harry hoped very much that the memories were not ones that Snape would miss.  
  
Harry turned his face to look into the pensieve and was, of course, unsurprised that his reflection was not staring back at him. Instead, he was looking down on a scene that seemed to involve a young Snape falling off a toy broomstick and skinning his bony knee. Harry suppressed a gleeful laugh as the greasy-haired child whined pitifully about his scrape. A hook-nosed man standing nearby looked on indifferently, restraining a small, slightly plump woman from caring for the boy.  
  
"No, no, dear. He needs to learn to fend for himself. You're a big boy, Severus, get up now. There's a good lad," the man finished as Snape picked himself up off the pavement, drying his tears as he went. Harry, feeling slightly sick, did the only thing he could think of to do. If he wanted to see Sirius, this certainly wasn't the way. He picked up his wand and lightly stirred the contents of the bowl, hoping that the next memory he came upon would be one that included Sirius or his father.  
  
No such luck. The next swirling memory was definitely of a teenage Snape, but no one else seemed to be around. He was alone in what Harry recognized as the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, swishing his wand this way and that. As Harry watched, the young boy pointed his wand at a slinking rat and mumbled something. To Harry's horror, he watched the rat crumble as if in pain and begin to seizure on the damp floor. He had seen the Cruciatus curse performed before, but somehow the horror of it now seemed all too real.  
  
A thin smile curved the pock-marked face of the greasy-haired delinquent in the pensieve. Glancing over his shoulder with a furtive look in his eyes, Snape turned back to the defenseless rat, now lying on its side and panting heavily. With another cold grin, the teenage Snape raised his wand again. "Avada Ked-" the boy began, and then stopped abruptly. Snape's shoulders slumped and he lowered his wand. Scowling at his weakness, he slouched out of the classroom as the rat struggled for breath, then scurried quickly away.  
  
Shuddering, Harry swirled the contents again, and this time he almost got his wish. It was Sirius in the pensieve, but it was not a memory he wished to revisit. This memory was Snape's recollection of the last time he had come in contact with Sirius Black; the day of Mr. Weasley's return to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry swallowed hard as he watched the familiar scene unfold below him, catching sight of himself in the background, Sirius' face shining up at him, red with anger.  
  
"I am in rather a hurry, Black…unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time…" Snape's cold voice rang out from the pensieve, and Harry winced at his words. If only Sirius had stayed at Grimmauld Place instead of coming to the Department of Mysteries that night. But he hadn't, he had come to the Ministry of Magic, all because of Harry's foolishness. Sirius was dead because of him.  
  
He remembered the rest of that visit to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place very clearly. As he'd been forced out into the snow, Sirius had given him that package, the all-important package that could have saved his life.  
  
Harry kicked the leg of the desk angrily, upsetting the contents of the pensieve once again. If only he'd opened Sirius' gift immediately. He could have used the mirrors to directly contact Sirius the night of the battle at the Department of Mysteries instead of being thwarted by Kreacher after trying to reach him through the Floo Network. If he'd only followed Sirius' instructions, Sirius would still be alive. No matter how much he wanted to blame Snape, or Dumbledore, or Dolores Umbridge, or even Voldemort, he knew that Sirius' death had been entirely his, Harry's, fault.  
  
He glanced back at the pensieve in time to see that the memory it was now concentrated on was once again one he had already seen. This memory took place in the Great Hall at Hogwarts as a hundred or so students took their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. Harry stared longingly into the pensieve, pinpointing the dark heads of Sirius Black and James Potter, the Marauders, best friends, now united again in death.  
  
Harry watched the scene in the pensieve with grim concentration. His heart jumped into his throat as he watched his father impressing Wormtail with his talents with the Snitch as Sirius looked on, laughing. Harry felt a surge of guilt as he realized that he was feeling more sentimental about Sirius than his own father. But to be fair, Harry had never met his parents, and Sirius had been the closest thing he'd had to a father in the past few years, so why SHOULDN'T he feel sentimental about him?  
  
The wheels in Harry's brain began to turn as he watched his mother defend Snape in the pensieve. Could he hope that if he reentered Snape's memory at this point that he would see more of Sirius and his father? After all, Snape had interrupted this scene in the pensieve the last time Harry had been in his memory. Maybe there had been more to the memory, something that Snape hadn't wanted him to see.  
  
Breathing deeply, Harry took a leap of faith…into Snape's pensieve. 


	2. Death Eating

Harry hit the grass beyond Hogwarts castle with and audible thump. Pushing his glasses back up on his nose, his eyes followed the sounds of yelling and jeering to find Snape hanging upside down in midair again, his face a mask of hatred. Harry heard a voice call out from the crowd, "Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"  
  
At this, the mob surrounding Snape cheered again, and Harry winced as Snape's tighty whiteys, which weren't so white anymore, inched slowly upward toward his ankles in a kind of bizarre striptease. Several girls shrieked with laughter as the boys hooted madly, and Harry felt the familiar pangs of sympathy rising in his stomach. Somehow though, he didn't feel so ashamed of his father and Sirius this time. After his talk with Sirius about it that night in the fire, and after missing him so badly, nothing he could do would make Harry think any less of him.  
  
He watched for several more minutes, waiting for James and the others to get bored with their little game. They did, soon enough, and Snape fell to the Earth as the crowd dispersed. He landed spread eagle on the ground where he stayed for a long time, glaring at the sky and breathing hard. His breathing slowed gradually and he sat up, looking around. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat as he noticed Snape fighting to control the moisture that threatened to leak from his eyes. Harry could only guess what it would feel like to be humiliated like that in front of everyone, and he was sure that he would probably be doing the same thing if he were in Snape's position.  
  
Time passed slowly for Harry as Snape breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. Twilight was closing in by the time Snape had managed to pull himself to his feet and trudge toward the castle. Harry looked around in surprise. He hadn't realized how late it really was.  
  
He stared up at the sky as stars began to peek out at him from behind fluffy, curling clouds. He closed his eyes, thinking about what he was doing. He had sneaked into Snape's office and invaded his memories. What if Snape caught him here? And how did he know this would even work? He couldn't follow Sirius and James; he had to stay with Snape because it was Snape's memory.  
  
Harry had barely had time to wonder what would happen if he strayed away from Snape when the question was answered for him. Harry felt an enormous tug on his wrists and he lurched forward, falling to the ground. He tried to pull himself up, but something that felt like gigantic, invisible hands were heaving him forward, pulling him along on his stomach as he yelped in pain. He tried to hold onto his glasses with one hand, but the invisible grip on his wrists resisted. He settled for tipping his head backward and gazing up at the sky in order to keep the glasses on his face. Finally, Snape was forced to stop at the entrance to the castle to pull open the heavy doors, giving Harry a few seconds in which to scramble to his feet and run forward a bit, so as not to be caught by the invisible force again.  
  
Slipping into the darkening hallway, Harry had to wait for his eyes to adjust before he could locate Snape. The fifteen-year-old version of his teacher was scurrying down a passage up ahead, apparently headed for the Great Hall. Harry followed at a jog, effectively avoiding being pulled along on his stomach again, which was now scraped and bleeding a bit, he noticed.  
  
As Harry rounded the corner, the Great Hall came into view. He saw Snape slip inside, and he followed him stealthily. Snape weaved his way through the house tables quickly, finally dropping down into a seat on the end of the Slytherin table. As he did, Harry saw a boy lean over and begin to talk to Snape in a low voice. Harry inched closer, curious, and then stopped.  
  
He was torn. On one hand, he could listen to what the boy was telling Snape, or he could take a seat with Sirius and the others at his own table, the Gryffindor table. The decision was made for him when he started to approach the Gryffindor table and found himself in curious circumstances. He could hear the chatter of the Great Hall going on all around him, but he couldn't hear his father. That is to say, he couldn't hear what was going on at the Gryffindor table at all. It took him a moment to realize that the two house tables were so far apart that what Remus, James, Peter, and Sirius were saying was out of Snape's earshot. Because it was his memory, that meant Harry couldn't hear what was going on either. With a resigned sigh, Harry turned to the Slytherin table.  
  
With a feeling of deep disgust, Harry sank down onto a seat next to Snape. Being this close to Slytherins of any generation was enough to make him feel queasy. He leaned closer to Snape and the boy, listening intently.  
  
"Come on, Sev, you gotta come tonight. He'll get mad if you don't."  
  
"Look, Antonin, I don't know if I'll be coming at all anymore. I…I'm not so sure this whole thing is a good idea after all."  
  
Harry gasped in shock and almost keeled backward onto the floor as Snape addressed the boy. Antonin Dolohov, his face youthful but still pointed and pale, appeared shocked at Snape's bold statement. Harry's insides tied themselves in knots. What other surprises would this visit hold?  
  
Harry was not prepared for what happened next, despite his musings. Something hit the table with a bang and Harry whipped his head around. A slender form slid into the chair across from him with a grunt of pain, and Harry felt his heart turn to ice.  
  
Bellatrix Lestrange tossed her shimmering hair and looked Snape in the eye, a smirk playing at her lips.  
  
"I don't think skipping the meeting is a good idea either, Sevvy dear. You got yourself into this, and you're in it until the end, just like we are," she reminded him conversationally, her hooded eyes twinkling. For just a second, Harry could have sworn those poisonous eyes had locked with his own, but a second later Bellatrix was rooting around in her bag, clearly looking for something.  
  
Harry stared at Bellatrix without blinking for several moments. It was hard to see her this way, knowing what he knew. Right now, she was just a child, a common Slytherin thug. At this moment, she had no idea that she would one day grow up to kill Harry's beloved godfather after she had spent over a decade in Azkaban. Or maybe she did. Those eyes, those evil eyes, seemed to know something that no one else did. Yes. She knew.  
  
At that moment, Harry would have given all the gold in Gringotts and everything he owned for a time-turner. If he had turned back time instead of entering Snape's pensieve, nothing in the world could have prevented him from killing Bellatrix. As it was, he knew that any violent action he took would have no effect. He could stab her with one of the soupspoons lying on the table and nothing even remotely sinister would happen to her. She wouldn't even sustain a bruise.  
  
Bellatrix pulled a book out of her bag and slapped it triumphantly on top of the first one, which she had banged onto the table when she'd sat down. Harry stared at the cover, trying to read the name beneath the layer of dust, but to no avail.  
  
"Oy! Bella! What ya got there?" Called a voice a few seats over.  
  
Harry glanced down the table. After Bellatrix's appearance, he wasn't at all surprised to see a young Augustus Rookwood peering back at him, the acne that would scar his face forever now creeping over it like wildfire. Harry couldn't help musing to himself that poor Rookwood was even worse off than Eloise Midgen.  
  
"Shut up you nitwit!" Hissed Bellatrix, her eyes flashing at him menacingly. Rookwood fell silent, but he slid out of his chair and wandered over to stand behind Snape, looking down at the book.  
  
"I found a new incantation!" Bellatrix whispered excitedly to her surrounding crowd. She motioned them all closer, and Harry had to struggle to make sure that he was a part of the tightening circle. Harry noticed that MacNair the executioner had joined them. He definitely felt sick now, but he forced himself to listen attentively.  
  
"I'm going to take it to him tonight," Bellatrix continued proudly, flipping the book open and paging through it quickly.  
  
"But, Bella, what does it DO?" Asked a boy who looked only vaguely familiar to Harry. He realized that he had seen this boy's picture in the Daily Prophet, along with the other escaped Death Eaters.  
  
"Honestly, Lestrange, you stupid git!" Bellatrix snapped. "It's a part of the immortality process. I don't know how much good it will do, but it will help at least a little. Anyway, you know that HE wants to know about ANY spells we find that have anything to do with immortality."  
  
The Lestrange boy shut his mouth, looking sheepish. Harry realized that he didn't know his first name, but he figured it probably wasn't important given what he was witnessing at the moment. All thoughts of Sirius melted away as he listened intently to the plans of the young Death Eaters.  
  
"So you see, Sevvy, I don't think it would pay to miss tonight," Bellatrix purred, winking at a seething Snape. He obviously didn't enjoy being called "Sevvy".  
  
"Well, Bellatrix, if your discovery is as important as you say, then I sincerely doubt that HE will miss me," Snape replied silkily. "I'm sure he will be too busy examining this treasure and congratulating you on finding it to notice that I'd stayed in to do a little extra homework."  
  
"Homework?" Scoffed Bellatrix, her smile disappearing. "Somehow I think that your reasons for staying away have nothing to do with homework. Avery and Knot are coming, and their farther behind in their studies than you are."  
  
"They also have dismal hope of achieving any OWL's at all. I, on the other hand, would like to graduate from Hogwarts one day. I haven't gotten this far by scampering off into the wee hours of the night, Bellatrix. I have far more important matters to attend to."  
  
With those words, Snape swept to his feet and turned to walk away, but not before Bellatrix sneered her final cutting remark to his retreating back.  
  
"More important things like, laundry, perhaps? I have to say, Sevvy dear, your underpanties ARE a bit dirty. I'm sure HE will understand you taking a little time off for personal hygiene. Don't worry, once we tell HIM about today's little incident, I'm sure he'll be more than sympathetic."  
  
Snape continued to stalk away as though he hadn't heard Bellatrix's comment, but Harry could tell that he had. Harry scrambled after Snape, who appeared to be headed for the Slytherin common room.  
  
He trotted along after his teacher, thinking hard about all he had just heard. Could it really be true? Every single person he had seen Snape talking to at the Slytherin table could be identified as one of Voldemort's most loyal Death Eaters. Was it really possible that it was him they had been talking about? Were they going to see him, Voldemort, tonight? Would it even be Voldemort as Harry knew him, or would it be Tom Riddle? Harry could have kicked himself for never bothering to ask about these details of Voldemort's rise to power.  
  
The only thing he could do was pray that Snape decided to go to the meeting after all. Harry was amazed at the change in himself. His original, selfish purpose for entering Snape's pensieve was to simply see Sirius one more time, but he had easily slipped back into what Ron would have surely dubbed "hero mode". Now that he had an idea that he was privy to information only the Death Eaters could have known, he was sure he would find out some things about Voldemort that could be important to him in the present. All he had to do was hope that Snape would lead him to Voldemort.  
  
He was in for a long wait. The password at this time, Harry would learn, was "Serpent tongue". He supposed all the Slytherin passwords had something to do with snakes or having pure blood. After they'd entered the Slytherin common room, Snape headed for what Harry assumed was probably his room. Harry wondered if perhaps Snape occupied the same bedroom Draco Malfoy would one day sleep in. Snape seemed to be moving in the same direction Malfoy had gone the day Harry and Ron tested their Polyjuice Potion.  
  
Upon entering the dormitory, Snape flopped down onto one of the four-poster beds lining the walls of the room. Dust rose up into the air, making Harry sneeze. It didn't bother him too much, however, as he knew that Snape couldn't hear him. Unfortunately, it was the most interesting thing that happened to Harry for hours.  
  
Harry, though never sure of this hypothesis before, was now nearly 100% positive that death by boredom was entirely possible. No one entered the dormitory, and Snape didn't leave, either. In fact, he didn't do much of anything. He stared up at the ceiling. He played Cat's Cradle with thread from his blankets. He wrote down a bunch of odd things that seemed to Harry to be ingredients, and he wondered if Snape was already experimenting with potions. Eventually, Snape pulled out a book called "The Wand and the Wizard: How to Master Your Wood", which Harry found very funny.  
  
It was hours before someone finally burst into the cocoon of stupor Harry had found himself encased in. He had realized some time ago that he didn't know how to escape the pensieve, so he was rather hoping that things would pick up soon, before he had to figure out a way to magic himself out.  
  
It was Dolohov that opened the door to Snape's silent dormitory, shattering the darkness with a sliver of light emanating from behind it.  
  
"Severus. I'm not kidding. You really have to come tonight. They got that new kid, the one HE's been trying to recruit. Bellatrix finally cracked him. Come on. Please."  
  
Dolohov, Harry noted, sounded almost desperate for compliance. He wasn't sure if Dolohov's insistence had anything to do with Snape's well being, but he dismissed it quickly as Snape rose slowly from his bed and crossed to the door. His heart beat faster. Snape was going to go.  
  
Harry trooped along behind Dolohov and Snape, neither of whom said a word as they marched out of the castle and across the grounds. Harry noticed that they did not seem concerned with security. In fact, neither of them even flinched as they passed several teachers monitoring the hallway. Harry guessed that they must have made themselves invisible somehow, and wondered why he could still see them.   
  
Harry followed the others to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a hundred yards or so out of reach of the Whomping Willow, whose tendrils swayed gently in the breeze. Harry shivered at the sinister sight and turned back to examine his surroundings.  
  
Snape and Dolohov stood at the edge of a large circle of people, all holding their lit wands aloft. Every face in the crowd was turned toward the center of the circle, facing the man standing there. He was the most beautiful man Harry had ever seen, but he possessed the face Harry had grown to hate more than any other. Tom Riddle stood in the center of the circle, smiling grimly in the wand light. He opened his mouth to speak, and not even the sounds of the wind overhead could be heard in the background.  
  
"My friends," began Riddle, smiling even more broadly, "it is an important night indeed. Bellatrix has brought me not one, but two gifts tonight. Not only has she discovered the key to my immortality, she has also brought me a new Death Eater. It is in his blood, and now he will join us at last."  
  
Riddle turned and beckoned a figure behind him to come forward, and Harry stifled a scream as Sirius Black's grinning face was lit by the ominous glow of the Death Eaters' wands. 


	3. Padfoot is Warned

A/N: I apologize to my dear readers that this chapter was so long in the making. This story has been sort of my pride and joy and I didn't want to post anything less than perfect. I'm still not even sure that I've gotten it completely right or worked out all the kinks, but I suppose trial and error is an important lesson to learn. The next update might take even a bit longer, as I'm headed back to the dorms in ten days, but don't give up on me, loyal readers! Read, REVIEW, and enjoy.  
  
Harry felt as though he were seeing everything through a very thick fog. Everything around him was a blur, and everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion. As the dizzying feeling threatened to overpower him, Harry struggled to comprehend the scene that was unfolding before him. Like a serpent, Tom Riddle's outstretched arm slithered across Sirius' shoulders and pulled him closer, smiling at him almost lovingly.   
  
Sirius looked at each one of the Death Eaters in turn, his handsome face stretched into an ecstatic smile. His gaze finally settled on a figure Harry couldn't see. As if in a dream, Harry craned his neck to see the person Sirius was treating to his luminous grin.   
  
Bellatrix stepped away from the throng of Death Eaters in which she had stood and took the hand that her cousin had now offered to her. The three of them stood together for several minutes, a silent, immovable wall. Harry quivered with fear and confusion as he felt moisture begin to gather in the corners of his eyes. Sirius had lied to him all along. He really had been a Death Eater.  
  
A young woman next to him was muttering something to one of her colleagues, and Harry couldn't help eavesdropping.  
  
"Bellatrix thinks she's SO wonderful. She always was the favorite. We all knew that Sirius would come to his senses eventually and that Tom would find the formula for immortality. So why does everyone think she's so great? It's not like it was HER fault."  
  
Harry was strongly reminded of his Aunt Petunia.  
  
"Now now, Narcissa. Bellatrix worships Tom, and she did the research he requested of her, just like the rest of us have been doing. There's no reason for you to be jealous. Just because she's smart and beautiful and loyal…"  
  
"Thank you, Lucius, but I'm NOT jealous of that little twit," the voice huffed angrily.  
  
Harry's eyes widened. The Malfoys! Were ALL of the Death Eaters here?  
  
Looking around, Harry realized that no, not all of the Death Eaters were present. Wormtail, of course, was absent. Harry was yanked back to the action as Sirius began to speak.  
  
"Well, Tom, I'm honored that you have sought my attendance so diligently," Sirius laughed, slapping Tom heartily on the back. Harry was stunned. He would never have treated Lord Voldemort as though he were a fellow member of some bizarre fraternity, but that was apparently how Sirius saw him. Tom laughed along jovially and motioned for Sirius to continue.  
  
"I'd also like to thank my dear cousin, Bellatrix, for helping me to finally see the light," Sirius continued, smiling at Bellatrix. "I had always resisted the urges I felt inside me to join you, Tom, but Bellatrix showed me that resistance was futile. I have come to serve you at last."  
  
The Death Eaters cheered, and Harry snuck a glance at Snape. His potions teacher was looking murderous, his eyes narrowed. What could he possibly be so angry about it? It seemed out of character for the young version of Snape to get visibly upset in the presence of others. Could it be that Bellatrix had rattled him that much?  
  
As Harry was pondering this, a cheer erupted from the crowd around him. Harry stood on tiptoe to see what had triggered such a reaction from the Death Eaters, and his breath caught as his eyes focused on the horrifying scene before him.  
  
Tom Riddle, wielding a dagger, was holding Sirius' wrist steady as he pressed the blade into the soft flesh of Harry's godfather's arm. Sirius gazed downward calmly, as though he could not feel the pressure of the blade or even see the dark, shimmering blood escaping from the wound.  
  
Tom flung the dagger aside, his eyes shining maniacally, and produced his wand from somewhere inside his robes. Harry stared at it, imagining that he could see inside it, right down to the phoenix feather core. He willed it to stop working, to not produce the spell that Tom was about to utter. These thoughts, of course, were a waste of his energy, and he was forced to witness the sinister jet of blue sparks that issued from the wand as it anticipated the task at hand.  
  
The handsome young man muttered something that Harry couldn't hear and gently probed the tip of his overactive wand beneath Sirius' broken skin. As Harry and the Death Eaters looked on with a mixture of horror and fascination, Sirius' arm was consumed with foul dancing black and blue flames. Harry ran forward, knowing it would do no good, knowing it was pointless to try anything. He stopped a foot or two in front of his godfather and his parents' killer, examining their faces intently.   
  
Harry had never been this close to Lord Voldemort without experiencing either acute pain in his scar or an intense fear for his life. He had never been this close to Lord Voldemort, ever. A look of deep concentration contorted Tom's handsome features, and his cold eyes were still fixed on Sirius. Sirius' formerly calm expression had vanished and his face was twisted into a look of inexplicable torment. Harry yearned to comfort him, but he knew it was futile.  
  
After a few moments, the dark flames subsided and the deep gash on Sirius' arm began to heal itself, growing slowly smaller before Harry's eyes. The skin had sealed completely before Sirius gazed upward, looking incredulous.  
  
Without a word, Tom seized Sirius' wrist and held it aloft, displaying the smooth forearm for all of their peers to see. Harry himself craned his neck to gaze upward, and was thoroughly unsurprised by what he saw.  
  
The dark mark burned black beneath Sirius' skin. Harry swallowed hard as the deatheaters applauded frantically. He rubbed his eyes hard, hoping against hope that when he opened them again, what he was seeing would have changed. Sirius had lied to him. Sirius, who had been like a father to him and whom he missed so intensely, had not been honest with him, had never been honest with him. It was as if Sirius were dying all over again. Only this time, it was Harry's memory of him that was decaying.  
  
The crowd around Sirius suddenly began to disperse; it seemed that the gathering had ended as quickly as it had begun. After a moment only Sirius, Tom, and Bellatrix remained, huddled together in a tight circle. At that moment, Harry remembered Snape and whipped wildly around. As much as he wanted to stay, he had no desire to be dragged along on his stomach behind the Potions master for the second time in one day. Upon further inspection, he located Snape, half-hidden in the brush at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. No one else appeared to have noticed him lurking there, and Harry's curiosity was piqued.   
  
Harry was thoroughly enjoying being able to stand in full view of his most hated enemies without fear, and he moved closer to the trio of deatheaters. As he drew closer, however, he was again frustrated by the fact that he could not hear the exchange. They appeared to be speaking in a whisper, and Snape was too far away to catch what was being said. Harry didn't understand. If Snape had not stayed behind to eavesdrop, what was his purpose for concealing himself from the others?  
  
The circle broke just then, and Sirius was abruptly expelled from the private meeting. He looked slightly hurt as Tom and Bellatrix turned away from him, Tom pulling Bellatrix close to him as they glided together toward the forest to continue their conversation. The newest member of their fellowship was apparently not invited. Sirius turned in the opposite direction, again facing the castle. He began to trudge slowly away from his fellow deatheaters, heading back toward the castle.  
  
Suddenly, something hurled itself at Sirius, pinning him to a nearby tree. Snape had revealed himself. One hand covered Sirius' mouth, and the other hand held Snape's wand inches from Sirius' face.  
  
"Not a sound, comrade."  
  
Sirius nodded fearfully, and Snape removed his hand from the other wizard's mouth. To Harry's great surprise, he found himself completely terrified by the look on his teacher's face. Even during Snape's attack on Sirius in the Shrieking Shack during Harry's third year, he had never seen such malice on Severus Snape's face in all the time he'd known him. It was a frightening thing, and Harry did not understand how his godfather had managed to twist his expression into the cocky sneer he knew so well.  
  
"What is it you want from me, Severus?"  
  
"I want nothing from you Sirius, but to warn you. Do not get involved with Tom Riddle, or even with Bellatrix. You'll regret it, I promise you that."  
  
"Don't let my dear cousin catch you saying that, Severus. She'd report it to Tom faster than you can say 'Voldemort'."  
  
Snape lowered his voice to a hiss that gave Harry goosebumps. "I don't care what that vapid, slimy little bitch says. I'm risking everything, Sirius. I'm telling you. Do. Not. Get. Involved. For your sake, and for James'."  
  
"What are you talking about? What does James have to do with this? This is my decision, Severus, and I'm responsible for the consequences."  
  
"Consequences that leave your best friend dead? Sirius, listen to me. I'm not the biggest Potter fan. In fact, I hate the man more than I've ever hated anyone in my life, even you. But in spite of all that, I don't want to see anything happen to him. I don't want someone to be dead because I was too cowardly to take action."  
  
Sirius was beginning to look nervous now. "And what do you suggest I do, Severus? Taking that oath is serious business. I'm a Death Eater now."  
  
"And am I not? Look at this! Look at MY arm!" Snape tore the sleeve of his shirt roughly, revealing his acidic dark mark in the light of the moonlight. "I'm just as much a Death Eater as you are, Sirius. But this is no longer child's play. Tom is growing stronger. He has the key to immortality now. I know he does, Sirius. I worked out the spell today. I've seen that book Bellatrix gave him countless times, studied it. But I never gave it to him, Sirius, because I don't want people to end up dead. I was an impressionable CHILD when I signed on to join Tom and his followers. I know better now. I know that Tom isn't playing games, he isn't joking about this war. There is only one thing that can stop him, and if you join him, you're signing James' death warrant and you know it."  
  
Harry's head was spinning. Could this have been what Sirius had meant the time he had confessed to Harry in the Shrieking Shack that he had killed James, even if his role had been indirect? And now Harry knew for certain what Snape had been scribbling when they'd been alone in his bedchamber. He wished he'd paid more attention. Voldemort's immortality rested on the genius of one young boy. Snape always had had a knack for Potions. Was that why Dumbledore refused to allow him to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?  
  
All of Harry's questions would for now have to remain unanswered, and more than a few of them were beginning to consume his consciousness. Why had Sirius become a Death Eater in the first place? Why had he lied to Harry? And most importantly of all, what did Sirius know about his father's death?  
  
Sirius was breathing hard, and the fear was finally evident in his eyes. Snape had gotten to him, but damned if he was going to show it. He tried to scoff, but it came out more like a squeak. "That's ridiculous, Severus. You know I'm not a conventional wizard. How can I be, with a family and friends like mine? Power, Severus, is the ultimate weapon against injustice. I have been judged according to the Black name for my entire life, and I'm tired of hearing Remus cry in the night because of the torment he feels and the prejudice he would face if anyone ever found out about his condition. It's time for a shift in power in this world, Severus, and Tom will bring that about in the best way he knows how."  
  
"You can not fight evil with evil Sirius! Two wrongs do not make a right. Power is a means, not an end. In the end, when all of Voldemort's power has caused devastation and chaos, you will be left with nothing. You will change nothing, Sirius, and this little act of rebellion could cost you something much dearer to you than you know. And you understand this, I know you do. James knows that his life rests in your hands. Yours. Not Remus' or Peter's. And you know too, not because I just told you, but because James already has. You are the most important person in his life because you are his protector. I know about his dreams, Sirius."  
  
"How?" Sirius shrieked, his eyes wide. "How do you know about them? He didn't even want to tell me, he was afraid that it would scare me away!" Sirius' shoulders drooped in defeat and his voice softened. "How do you know about them, if he didn't tell you?"  
  
Snape's cold eyes glittered. "It is evident, Sirius, that I am not the only one around here who has already learned how to activate a pensieve. Embarrassing little incident you had last week with Lily Evans. You care for her a great deal, don't you?"  
  
Without a word, Sirius slung his fist back and brought it crashing into Snape's skull. With a sickening thud and a grunt, Snape slid to the ground, unconscious.  
  
Sirius turned and began to move slowly back toward the castle beneath the starry sky, leaving Snape to the headache that would greet him when he awoke. Harry was no longer paying attention to either his godfather or his Potions teacher. He was frantically running through his mental index of spells, concentrating only on finding one that would aid him in escaping Snape's pensieve. He could focus on only one thing in the entire world at that moment. Sirius owned a pensieve, and he was going to find it. 


End file.
